


Make The Babbling Gossip of The Air Cry Out "Gamora!"

by LiterallyThePresident



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Projecting my love of Shakespeare onto fictional characters: vol 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyThePresident/pseuds/LiterallyThePresident
Summary: "Why did you read that to us?" Gamora asked, observing how he held the book like he held his walkman, like it was something important."This was my mom's favorite play." he told her with only slight hesitation, an improvement from his usual evasiveness, "I used to read it to her during chemo."





	Make The Babbling Gossip of The Air Cry Out "Gamora!"

"If music be the food on love, play on. Give me excess of it." Peter recited, a book in his hands and a spark of nostalgia in his eyes.

"Why would he attempt to eat music?" Drax frowned, "Can Terrans do that? Is your walkman some form of feeding device?"

"What? No." Peter rolled his eyes, "He's being metaphorical. I can't eat my music."

"I am Groot."

"Exactly, Groot, thank you." Peter nodded, "Where was I? Okay. That surfeiting, the appetite may sicken and so die."

"So the author is dying?" Gamora concluded. Peter slapped his forehead and groaned.

"No, guys, it's Shakespeare." he explained waving his hand, "One of the most famous writers in Earth history. But he's ancient, his language is ancient, you can't take his work literally."

"His work is incomprehensible." Drax said matter of factly, "Yet I am intrigued. Continue."

"That strain again!" Peter obeyed with a roll of his eyes, "It had a dying fall-"

"I am Groot?" Groot interrupted from his perch on Peter's shoulder.

"No one's dying, dumbass, it means the music." Rocket explained, head bowed over his latest project, "The music rises and falls like his stupid feelings." Silence fell, and he looked up to find eight pairs of astounded eyes on him.

"What?"

"You understand this drivel?" Drax asked.

"I dunno, makes sense doesn't it?" Rocket replied defensively, "The next line is probably about flowers or the weather or something."

"O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound that breathes upon a bank of violets, stealing and giving odor." Peter continued, grudgingly impressed.

"See?" Rocket nodded, "Humans. Predictable."

"Enough, no more." Peter said dramatically, making a grand silencing gesture with his hand, "'Tis not so sweet now as it was before."

"The music or the odor of violets?" Drax asked.

"I am Groot." Groot answered.

"O spirit of love!" Peter laid a hand across his forehead, miming a distressed damsel, much to Groot's cheerful amusement, "How quick and fresh art thou. That notwithstanding thy capacity, recieveth as the sea."

"Is he saying words?" Drax muttered, trying to make sense of the archaic Terran phrases.

"Naught enters there, of what validity and pitch so'oer, but falls into abatement and low price." Peter was clearly trying not to laugh. Groot tried to read alongside Peter, seemingly forgetting that he hadn't yet relearned how to read.

"Even in a minute. So full of shapes is fancy-"

"What do fancy shapes have to do with low prices?" Drax appeared to be buffering, trying to assign meaning to the unfamiliar linguistics.

"-that it alone is high fantastical." Peter glanced at Gamora to see if she was at least following along. Gamora blinked slowly, processing the words, her mind racing as she tried to assign familiarity to them.

"The language is pleasant, I suppose." she admitted, "But nonsensical. Flowery prose serves no purpose."

"I'm not done." Peter waggled his eyebrows at her, "Oh, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, methought she purged the air of pestilence

"Who is Olivia?" Gamora's brow furrowed, looking at Peter suspiciously.

"The person this monologue is about." Peter explained quickly, "No one I know personally."

"I suppose I trust you." she acquiesced. Rocket snorted, making a snide comment under his breath that earned a glare from Gamora. Peter stifled a laugh and continued reading.

"That instant was I turned into a hart-"

"This Olivia transformed him into an organ?" Drax narrowed his eyes, "She was a witch?"

"-and my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, e'er since pursue me." Peter finished, bowing proudly to nonexistent applause.

"Well, that was lame." Rocket hopped down from his seat, "I'm gonna go make a bomb. Groot, you coming?"

"I am Groot!" Groot chirped, clambering down from Peter's shoulder to sit on Rocket's.

"I will follow." Drax gave Peter a searching look, "Perhaps he will explain this shaking of the spears better than you."

"Thanks." Peter said sarcastically, "Your friendship means a lot to me too, Drax." Drax looked confused for a moment, but apparently chalked it up to just Peter being Peter and let it go. Once he had left, Peter and Gamora were alone. There was a moment of silence where neither was sure what to say. Peter flipped through the book, and a question soon made itself know in Gamora's mind.

"Why did you read that to us?" Gamora asked, observing how he held the book like he held his walkman, like it was something important.

"This was my mom's favorite play." he told her with only slight hesitation, an improvement from his usual evasiveness, "I used to read it to her during chemo."

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to drag up bad memories." she apologized, feeling shame creep up into her chest.

"It's fine." Peter waved away her concern, "They're not so bad. It was back when we had hope, anyway. And she would always smile when I read. I had a different voice for each character, and for whatever reason I was convinced that the clown was Australian. She loved the clown."

"Which part was her favorite?" Gamora asked curiously, "Do you know?"

"I do know." he perked up, "The guy, er, lady... it's complicated, is talking about what they'd do if they loved Olivia. I can read it for you." Peter flipped through the book quickly, taking a moment to find the page. When he found his page, he went quiet, seeming to contemplate something.

"And?" Gamora prompted, "What would they do if they loved Olivia?" She was taken aback when he knelt suddenly, taking her hand in his, and without even glancing at the book, he began to speak.

"Make me a willow cabin at your gate." his voice was softer than before, his attention focused on her alone, "And call upon my soul within the house. Write loyal cantons of contemned love, and sing them loud even in the dead of night." A crash and a high pitched shriek came from the other room, but neither Gamora or Peter noticed. To Gamora, it was as though they were the only people in the galaxy.

"Singing loudly at night would be irritating." Gamora said, but her voice came out a whisper, "It is a poor way to woo someone."

"Hallow your name to the reverberate hills," Peter stood, not letting go of her hand, not breaking away from her gaze, "and make the babbling gossip of the air cry out;" They were close enough to touch. He wrapped his free arm around her waist. She had to remind herself to breathe.

"Gamora!" the cry was a mere murmur, his face inches from hers, "Gamora. O, you should not rest between the elements of the air and Earth. But you should pity me."

"And why must she pity him?" Gamora asked quietly, resting her forehead against his. Peter laughed softly, squeezing her hand.

"Because he loves her with his heart and soul. He knows he's nothing without her, and would give everything he has and more just for a fleeting smile."

"Are we still talking about the story?" Gamora questioned.

"Only if you want us to be." He had given her an out, should she want to take it. She didn't.

"How does it end?" she asked softly, lacing her fingers with his.

"They all live happily ever after." Peter murmured, finally leaning forward to kiss her, "Well, except the steward, but he was an asshole anyway."

**Author's Note:**

> Personal headcanon that Peter would totally memorize Shakespeare for his mom. Twelfth Night is my favorite Shakespeare play (and means a lot to me personally), which means it's Meredith's too. That's how it works, right?


End file.
